


Red Thread

by c0rnfl0wer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Fluff, Happy Ending, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Russian Mythology, it's literally all fluff and tradition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0rnfl0wer/pseuds/c0rnfl0wer
Summary: When the goddesses of Fate weave thread into their cloth, it is to determine the lives and deaths of mortals. When Viktor weaves thread into cloth on the rare occasion, it is to protect Yuuri in every way he knows how, even from his own self-doubts. Tradition says that embroidery can determine the fortune, safety, and happiness of humans, and Viktor isn’t one to pass up on any opportunity to help Yuuri, especially a tradition so embedded into his life.Mythology/Historical AU based on Russian embroidery traditions and the magic they possess.





	Red Thread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regardinglove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/gifts).



_The sun is shining, my dear, my love,_  
_And June is so lovely with you by my side._  
_And I know all your weaknesses, and you know mine,_  
_So let’s make the vow to treat the world as one._  
_The sun is shining, my dear, my love,_  
_And I’ve stained the world in red, in red,_  
_So I can keep you protected from every harm._

 

* * *

 

 

Needle and thread.

Pull the thread taut. Sweep the excess aside. Find the next puncture. Repeat and repeat until your fingertips are calloused to the needle’s point and your palms are red from the thread running over them. There’s relief when the thread is knotted, broken off from the fabric. Until it’s shifted and the task is nowhere near complete. There’s so much more to go, and time can be so daunting when the days pass so quickly.

Viktor counted the seams to himself, kept track of every puncture in the fabric and knot that held his work in place. He stepped back to examine every line he had run over the white material. Every swirling flower and rigid square that ran along the neckline and trickled down the sleeves. If something was crooked, he reworked the entire line. If white was showing where it was supposed to be drenched, he would run the thread over it a hundred more times.

Rinse and repeat. Ignore the blood he drew from the pricks.

“Vitya? Are you home?” Yuuri’s voice rang out from the threshold of their house, prompting Viktor to shove the shirt under the pillow beside him.

He couldn’t let Yuuri see the weariness in his shoulders, the frustration that marked his expression. So, he mustered a brilliant smile and stood to greet Yuuri.

“I thought you wouldn’t be home ‘til evening?”

“Oh, yeah, I won’t be. I just needed to stop by really quick to grab more ribbons. You’re sure you don’t wanna help us collect more? Rusalka Week is coming to an end tomorrow and we—”

Viktor waved him off. “You know I would if I could. But I’m trying to make this year’s speech for Rusalka Week my best one.”

“Oh? Why is this one so special?” Yuuri couldn’t hide the tiny small on his lips, the involuntary admission that he already knew.

“Because someone very amazing will be spending the last day’s celebration with me and I wanna impress them.” Viktor stepped forward to lace his fingers through Yuuri’s and kissed him gently on the forehead. He already predicted Yuuri’s response, the teasing confusion of who this _someone_ was, though Viktor continued before such remarks could transpire. “Now go help Phichit and the others collect more ribbon. I want the riverbank looking beautiful when I speak tomorrow.”

Yuuri jolted slightly, as if remembering again his reason for returning home and the task at hand. He pecked Viktor on the lips quickly before hurrying to collect any spare ribbon they had available and back to the riverbank.

Viktor had already stashed the ribbon he needed for his own little project. A gift he had been working on in the few days when Yuuri was missing from his side and keeping far from Yuuri’s sight. If he noticed it, the surprise would be ruined. Not just the shirt, no, _everything_ he had planned.

Thus, although every day without Yuuri’s bright presence was undesirable, he breathed a little easier once he was alone once more.

Their kiss still prominent on his mind, he slipped the shirt from under the pillow and resumed the line of red thread he had strewn along the cuffs. He bent over his task and slowed his pace as he came to the next complex symbol, small and minor and intertwined with the rest but entirely important.

“This isn’t a contest, Vitya. There is no _best_. There are only good-intentions and carelessness. You must learn to sew with good-intentions, to slow yourself when need be,” his mother had told him.

In his youth, she had held him on her lap. He had watched her intently, leaning back against her as she painted every shirt she made him with geometric shapes so neatly and flowers so delicately beautiful. Every stitch and pause to consider her next movement as she designed the symbols presently. She was skilled, a prodigy within her work, as she foretold his future and health in every shirt.

“You’re so wise, Vitya, when you want to be. Someday you’ll love someone worth protecting. Someone you’d give your life for. But instead of leaping in front of danger to keep them safe, I shall teach you to keep them from harm’s way before sacrifice is necessary. You will know to let them stand on their own with fear weighing on neither of your shoulders.”

Many of the tunics and shirts he possessed were made by her hand, works of art that took weeks for her to perfect and that he took such pride in wearing. Raiment dripping with symbols known only to her — and now to Viktor. His work had never reached her skill, but his mother had been right. His life had unfolded just as she had told of in her embroidery, as she had told him in such poetic terms.

Viktor had Yuuri to protect now.

“Embroidery is our shield, my Vitya. It is what we know and what will protect us from the world. The red symbolizes the sun, our livelihood, our blood, our loved ones, everything so dear to us. Every pattern I sew onto your collar is the tree of life, Vitya, your gateway to the world around you, as an important member of it. Every square and star and swirl shall keep your life on the right path, a good and rich and wise one.”

Every prophecy of hers had been so true to his path. She had founded a life for him that brought him the greatest joy after years of loneliness. But he had Yuuri by his side now, to hold and spend his moments with. To protect from the evils of the world that Viktor was too aware of. To help save Yuuri from his inner sorrows, only vaguely known to Viktor but present enough for him to need to reach out. He needed to lay a path as beautiful as his mother had provided for him.

“And someday, when you find someone you need to protect, you will do the same for them. You’ll embroider a better future for them, a safety and peace that both of you deserve. So, I shall show you every protective symbol I know, how to construct symbols capable of making your beloved content and safe. But be warned, my Vitya, every story is different, and the ones I have taught you will not match the ones you will embroider for another someday. I can only impart onto you how to forage your own and protect them as well as you can.”

Viktor pulled the needle through the fabric once more, letting the excess thread gather on his lap before tugging it through the next stitch. The white fabric was already bleeding heavily with red, but he could not be satisfied until every seam was perfect and neatly in place as his mother had once taught him.

“But you are a good boy, my Vitya. You are wise. I know your father insists on you being a leader of our district first and foremost, above all, but I have faith that you can accomplish so much more. I trust you will one day protect your beloved as I have protected you.”

Breaking the thread off from the needle, Viktor tied a knot closely to the fabric and stepped away to examine his work once more. He ran his fingers idly over the embroidery, as if in fear it could unravel, lose some of its magic.

Leading the district had always been his focus in life, and he did it well. He stood at the forefront of his community, decided on decisions no one else could make, gave grand speeches that rang throughout the district for years. He was beloved, needed, and so powerless to what he had never had the foresight in fixing.

Being the district’s greatest leader, a worthy successor of his father, was something he prided himself on, but he needed to do _more_. There was too much left to chance with Yuuri now by his side, even when they spent so many of their days with each other. Viktor couldn’t risk him, couldn’t lose him. The world could be so terrifying against every dark forest and ill-fated spirit, and he couldn’t leave Yuuri without a shield he knew how to fashion on his own. He couldn’t let Yuuri face life on his own when he could protect his _beloved_.

He examined every line, every stitch, until he was satisfied. Every seam was smooth and in line with the rest. The flowers of every color were centered against the geometric patterns. The geometric patterns fell directly along the collar, sleeves, hems, as if to guard the white fabric. For his limited talents in embroidery, it was far better than he could have hoped for.

It had to be.

He had to protect Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yuuri, it’s daylight. We have to get ready.”

An early riser, Viktor leaned over to kiss Yuuri lightly on the cheek before throwing their blanket to the foot of the bed. Yuuri groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, willing sleep to come to him once more.

Unfortunately, Viktor was persistent.

“Oh well, I guess Yuuri will be missing the final day of Rusalka Week. Such a shame, too, I was under the impression that many people within the district were planning to come here and see all the work their dearest local leader put into this special event.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about yourself?”

Viktor huffed and stood up. “You, Yuuri. They’re coming to see everything you have done for today. But, you’re right. Since you’ll be sleeping, they can come and admire the most powerful person in the district instead. _Me_.”

Giving a loud scoff and sigh at Viktor’s words, Yuuri forced himself to open his eyes and stand up. “Perhaps I should go back to sleep if that’s what everyone will be doing all day, anyway.”

“Aw, _Yuuri_ , you wound me so! I was looking forward to spending today with you!” Viktor crossed over to the other side of the bed and leaned his forehead against Yuuri’s. “Besides, since you’re the one who orchestrated this event, it’s you everyone will be focusing on.”

“Well in that case I better try and get dressed for today.” Yuuri yawned and broke free from his contact with Viktor.

Yuuri only got a few paces before Viktor caught his wrist, bringing him to an abrupt halt. He looked back to meet Viktor with curiosity but instead found the space behind him empty, Viktor having let go of his wrist and in the process of leaving their room once he had gained Yuuri’s attention.

“Just wait there!” Viktor called back.

A moment later he returned, pace brisk and his arms coated with fabric and ribbon. He stopped directly in front of Yuuri and started sorting out the things he had fetched. The red ribbon he laid aside on their bed, the flower crown of chamomiles and poppies and violets he placed momentarily on his own brow, and the heavily embroidered shirt he offered to Yuuri. Pinching the shoulders of the shirt, he let the rest of the fabric fall naturally straight so as to present the embroidery.

“For you!” Viktor informed Yuuri triumphantly, a proud and adoring smile lighting up his expression.

“Where did you get this?” Yuuri asked. His voice had dropped to little more than a hushed whisper and he almost didn’t dare touch the shirt.

“I made it for you. For today.” Even with all the joy lacing his tone, he was not ready to explain the meaning of the symbols yet.

“You really… You made this for me?” Yuuri glanced back at Viktor before shifting to examine the shirt once more. His eyes had widened and his lips parted in shocked admiration.

“Just for you!” Viktor chirped. He held the shirt out a bit more, signally to Yuuri to take it. “I can help you with the ribbons once you’re dressed.”

Yuuri nodded numbly then followed Viktor’s instructions. He accepted the shirt from Viktor and gently tugged it over his head, fingering the embroidery in amazement once it had settled against him. The multiple layers of thread stiffened the fabric where it pooled but Yuuri barely noticed as he struggled to observe every minute detail. Even with all of the tunics his mother had embroidered for him and all those that he had seen Viktor wear, this one claimed the title of the most gorgeous shirt he had ever seen.

While Yuuri was thus preoccupied, Viktor finished adding the final details. He combed and braided Yuuri’s long hair carefully and settled the flower crown on his head. Then took the red ribbons from the bed and tied them around Yuuri’s wrists and forearms, arching the ribbon in lattice patterns just tight enough to keep in place. There was no helping the bright smile any longer.

“You look stunning.” Viktor rested his hand lightly against Yuuri’s jawbone and kissed him briefly, heartbeat quickening when Yuuri responded in turn as it always did.

Viktor pulled away reluctantly, a forced action that he only carried out when Yuuri reminded him that they needed to finish preparing and leave for the riverbank. But he complied, and a few moments later they left their little house hand in hand.

“Welcome all,” Viktor began. The trees along the river were thoroughly adorned with ribbons and threads of every color. He stood in front of the tallest tree, the offerings for the Rusalki catching in the summer breeze and gentle babblings of the river at his back. “Before we begin, now would be the time to add any more ribbon and thread to the trees.”

A few people stepped forward, stringing what they had brought along the branches. There was not much time until he would be expected to speak once again, but there was enough. His grip on Yuuri’s hand tightening, he guided Yuuri close to him and lowered his voice.

“I want you to give this year’s speech—”

“But, Vitya, that’s your job. It always has been. Everyone has been waiting for you to speak,” Yuuri answered in a rush, breath catching in his throat and hands trembling.

“Well, now they’ll know that they were waiting for _you_.” Viktor brushed a stray strand of hair out of Yuuri’s eyes. “You’ve heard me practice my speech a dozen times. If you can’t think of your own, then you know you can use mine. I know you can do this, Yuuri.”

Yuuri peered past Viktor to the rest of those gathered. It was a sizable crowd, one consisting of more people than he had ever spoke in front of before. He bit his lip, already expecting imminent failure in such an endeavor. Despite Viktor’s words, Viktor's thumb gently running along the back of his hand, Yuuri refused to meet Viktor’s glance. To assume he had any confidence to give for such an important speech.

And Viktor saw it. The doubt and fear.

And Viktor had to protect Yuuri, even if it was from himself.

He laid his free hand against Yuuri’s cheek, begging him to meet Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri followed the silent command after a beat, uncertainty present in every part of him, in his wide eyes and blood now running cold. But he met Viktor’s eyes, and that was all Viktor needed to try and right this.

“Yuuri, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t know you could take my place as leader today. But you can. Everyone loves you so much, Yuuri, they don’t want to see only me. And just to prove it, I made you a shirt with a future of great success embroidered into it. You can’t resist it, Yuuri. And I trust that you will do so well. They love you as much as they love me, or they will very soon, so they’ll listen. So, will you?”

Yuuri furrowed his eyebrows, bowed his head to examine the embroidery running along his shirt once more. He had never given such an important speech to so many. Or taken the place meant for Viktor. But he trusted Viktor’s word. And he nodded, accepting the offer before his nerves and doubts could change his mind for him.

“You’ll be perfect, Yuuri,” Viktor assured, kissing him on the temple before nudging Yuuri closer to the crowd. He raised his voice and spoke over the crowd's chattering momentarily to announce the change of speaker, which was met with surprise; Viktor had never relinquished his duties to another before.

It was not until the crowd had settled again that Yuuri began. His hands stilled trembled, though Viktor gripped one hand tightly. His voice quaked in the beginning, though Viktor shifted to wrap his free arm around Yuuri’s shoulders to calm him. The meaning of his shirt’s embroidery that had been so painstakingly wrought, Viktor’s encouragements that sounded so sincere, were enough for Yuuri to regain his composure as he began speaking.

“Today marks the end of Rusalka Week. These past few days have been difficult as they always have been; Rusalki have always been near impossible to elude or resist once a person is under their spell. Which is why, this week especially we should be proud and rejoice that none have us been lost to their treachery.”

Yuuri took a deep breath, tightened his hold on Viktor’s hand. His speech had already deviated from Viktor’s as Yuuri found his own words.

“But Rusalka Week has come to a close. Where they had been seeking us out with malicious intent, the Rusalki shall now cling to their river, or avoid us when venturing from their territory. They shall correct their wrongs by replenishing our crops. They shall confine their company to each other, enjoying the warm weather in solitary before autumn’s wind comes. They shall pose no threat ‘til next year. And in gratitude we leave them thread and ribbon, and look forward to peace here for another year.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri into an embrace at the final word, quietly congratulating him for an eloquent speech and captivating the audience. A blush painted Yuuri’s cheeks in return as he buried himself against Viktor’s shoulder.

“I told you you would be brilliant,” Viktor said upon leaning back, smiling softly.

“Thanks, Vitya.” Yuuri looked back down at his shirt for a moment before peering back up at Viktor, eyes narrowed. “Did you embroider this shirt solely so I would be able to deliver _your_ speech?”

Viktor shrugged and smiled innocently. “I figured it would comfort you a bit to have such magic on your side.”

Yuuri snorted and gently pushed Viktor as they followed the rest of the crowd up the bank; the feast celebrating the end of Rusalka Week was not something to be missed. “It worked, then, I guess. Thank you, Vitya.”

Although it wasn’t technically a lie — the shirt having been sewn in the hopes of Yuuri’s overarching success — Viktor kept his mouth closed about the rest of the details. About how the success was not meant for today but his entire life. About how many of the minute details were included for more than just success.

Viktor had Yuuri to protect now. His mother had been right, so very right, as Viktor had sewn in every symbol of protection he could manage. Protection against malicious spirits and danger and accidents and mishaps. Protection against Yuuri’s own fears and self-doubts. Every symbol he knew and new ones he had shakily designed just for Yuuri, for his beloved.

The tree of life was embroidered along the collar, connecting Yuuri to the world and the people he was to lead, though Viktor sensed that this emotive skill was already known well to Yuuri. It was a safeguard, an addition to make himself feel connected with Yuuri even deeper than he already did.

Red stained the entire ensemble. It was the color of every ribbon and thread, the color in which Viktor embroidered his symbols of protection and success. The color that ran up Yuuri’s arms in carefully tied ribbons. The color of the sun, their livelihood, their blood, their love, everything so dear.

Viktor kept Yuuri close to him as they walked, more at ease than he had ever been in being able to protect Yuuri so thoroughly. To shield Yuuri, his beloved, from a world he could not fully trust with someone he loved so dearly.

“Of course, солнышко моё. You know I’ll always protect you in every way.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a belated birthday present for [Rae](http://flowercrownyuri.tumblr.com/)!! I hope you had an amazing birthday, friend, you completely deserve it! Thank you so much for helping bring this community closer and being such an absolutely lovely person in general. Hope you enjoyed the story! <3
> 
> солнышко моё: (solnishko moyo) literally "my little / dearest sun"; translated as "my sweetheart".
> 
> Some Notes: Embroidery was to the Slavs what runes carved on bark was to the Norse, and more. They used embroidery in their clothing to ward off evil spirits, determine a person's fate, cast divination, plus several other meanings of that nature. This was passed down through the family; every family had some unique characteristics to their embroidery. There's a more modern example of the tree of life embroidery [here](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/5e/b0/35/5eb035ef0aafe41f765cc3cd2011a9e0.jpg). You can also check out specifically Russian embroidery [here](https://www.google.com/search?q=russian+embroidery&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjY_53B1brTAhWd0YMKHWoMCXEQ_AUICCgB&biw=1280&bih=614); it's mostly geometric shapes, flowers, and chickens. Red was also extremely important as I described here, and some still wear red ribbons around their wrists to ward off evil spirits.  
> Rusalka Week has been generally outlined here; it's the week Rusalki would actively kill passersby, and for the rest of the year they acted more as water spirits, watering crops. More about the Rusalki is in my fic, Ivan da Maria, just in case someone reading this isn't familiar with them.
> 
> Thank you for reading !!! Please feel free to leave kudos/etc. !!! Happy birthday, Rae!


End file.
